Lightening Eyes
by jesusmysavior911
Summary: Prowl, a Decepticon experiment, is freed under the Autobot faction. And now he is trying to live amoung them, despite knowing how to kill them. Will his family accept him? Or will he run back to Soundwave, the one who created him? Summary sucks, I'm sorry
1. Chapter 1

The air ducts were small, and in a desperate need for cleaning, and that was saying something considering she barely hit five foot three. Alice, code named Whitewing, was the only person capable of crawling through the air ducts in the first place, she being small in frame and weight. She was the only one capable of being quiet enough while still being unable to be caught. And it was essential that they couldn't get caught.

The Decepticon base was bustling, although it was night. Normally they wouldn't run an operation so soon, but it had to be done. Soundwave was up to something, she could feel it, and the spies confirmed it. He would disappear into a lab deep in the underground part of the base, and many a time, Barricade would enter as well, looking incredibly smug and all-knowing. The taunting from him was becoming unbearable. The subtle hint as if he had the best weapon was in his grasp. They had to know.

She checked her map once more. Yes it was to the right. She looked through the small vent, yes, this was the door described. She could practically hear the machines humming from here. She clicked a small button on a long, gauntlet looking device on her arm. It would piggy back a signal and travel to the battle going on the edge of the borders of the Decepticon base. It would be safe to pull back, if they needed to. They just needed a little more to convince Megatron to lure Soundwave out.

Over the intercom she could hear a very angry Megatron yelling.

"SoundWave, Now! You and your cassettrons!"

Soundwave walked out, ever the emotionless mask, and set the codes. She couldn't see all of them, but there were ways of making the little locks sing to her.

She waited to be sure that he didn't come back, and then jumped down. The locks were tricky and she nearly set off an alarm, but she got in.

The first thing she noticed was that the room was immense and freezing. As she cautiously walked in, she could see her breath condensing. There were monitors covering the walls, various streams of data running across it. Upon closer inspection, she saw that it one had various personal data of herself being streamed, and then it kept changing, images of Blackout, and Kicker, then Decker. They had files on them, especially the Special Ops team. She quickly deleted it, and wiped the computer. The screen over to the left side was flashing various strategies and tactics. The others holding various maps and stealth techniques. Other broadcasting videos of fights and multiple styles of martial arts, at least seven at once. Her bright blue eyes followed the long, thick lines that flowed through out the room to the very center. Back to the black box, where they all wrapped into a hole, the ends covered with a frost.

"Well, let's see what's behind box number one." She marched over to what looked like a control board, eyes darting across the switches and buttons. A lever might work. She pulled the one by a bright red button. It snapped back and the black leading cover lifted from what she could now see was a giant block of ice. A giant black of ice with a child lying inside.

She stared, frozen in shock.

It was hard to see him, with the pale frost disorienting most of his features. But she thought she recognized that chin….

"WhiteWing! Get out of there!"

She jumped at the voice of Kicker jumped from the small earpiece in her ear. She looked back at the lever again. Dang it, it had a finger print scanner. Why the heck would a lever have a finger print scanner!

"Kicker, buy me some time! I gotta grab something!" she started looking for the unfreeze switch or something, there had to be something to get this kid out. When she finally found it, she punched it down.

"Unfreezing Process has begun." A computerized voice ran. Gas started pouring out of the large box of ice, the room flashing red from the alarms. She shot them off.

"No can do, get out of there!" A gunshot went off from the earpiece. They were being pushed back, they had to retreat.

"There's a kid here, Kicker!" she yelled. She started shooting at the top of the glass. Why place the kid upside down? Easier for the wires to get to? There was a pause over the communication networks, and she nearly started yelling again.

"You've got 5 minutes. It's all we can give you." And the line went silent. She pulled her gun out and began firing at the top of the glass, where his feet were.

Who put a child upside down in a block of ice? Who put anybody in a block of ice! She kept shooting the top of the imposingly tall structure. Gas started pouring out of the ice, liquid nitrogen covering the floor and making her hands go numb. The gas was crawling to her eyes. She had to get him out. Finally, she heard it.

The ice shattered. The body in the glass fell limply to the floor, legs stiff. There was a sharp burst of electricity, and the lines pulled out, failing on the floor like eels with no life source. He wasn't moving. He was still. Oh, what has she done? He couldn't be…

His chest rattled with a single breath. She could see his heart beating through his chest, think and frail, but there. There was a spare lab coat lying on one of the chairs. She grabbed it as she jumped over the console, pulling the large coat on him. That would have to do until they were safe. She needed to go. They needed to move. Now.

She gathered him in her arms and ran out to door, back into the air vents. A polished black shoe turned the corner at the same time. She cursed silently and crawled as fast as she could with the unexpected bundle in her arms.

All of a sudden, there was fire racing for her. They were trying to bomb her out. She thought back to the map. The service elevator, just in the left. She crawled to it, and slammed the door shut just as a explosion went off behind her. That was too close. Too close. And it was cramped in here with two people, even if they were both small and thin. Really small. How small was a teenage boy supposed to be?

The service elevator finally ended, and it leads right outside. The dirt was welcomed and she raced for the small section where Kicker was waiting for her. They kid was getting heavy. She was almost there. A gunshot whizzed by her ears, cutting her black hair. And then she crawled into the dugout and bushes, the boy being lifted off of her, the kid seemingly asleep. They raced down to the large van hiding in the thicket and raced off, the entire platoon safe with gunfire peppering their tailgate.

They were safely within Autobot territory now, only a day or so away from the main camp. Whiteout relaxed her hold on her dagger, a nervous habit she was prone to. The place that had set up camp was small and obscure, as they were only a band of three. Well, four she supposed. The fire was warming her nicely, and they were finally away from the gunshots and Decepticons. Silvershot poked the fire thoughtfully, sparks flying at her touch.

"So, who's the kid?"

Whiteout glanced down at him for the hundredth time that night. They only thing they could find to replace the overgrown lab coat was a small special ops suit that was all black, and cut into his frame nicely. His hair was cropped short in the back, with a small mechanical port hooked up to the base of his cranium. It had been biomechanically inserted. His hair was strange; White, with blood red bangs to frame his chiseled, solid face. She touched her own bangs, trying to recall where she had seen a face similar to his, but couldn't place it. Her mind traced back to all the snippets of information that had played on the monitors. A name, a code-name really, kept popping on all of them.

"They called him Prowl."

His eyes snapped open all of a sudden, and she stared back at a matching pair of her own lightening blues, staring straight back at her.


	2. Chapter 2

She reared back from her seat and groped for her dagger on instinct, but the teen was faster than she anticipated. He had pulled it from its sheath, and ran to the other side of the fire, bangs burning, eyes darting between both Silvershot and herself.

"Woah! Woah, sweetheart, its okay. I'm not here to hurt you." She said soothingly. She crouched down into the dirt, the knees of her uniform even dirtier than the dust from the air vents. "It's okay."

He lowered the knife warily, still glancing at SilverShot. She nodded her approval and went back to the fire, with sly glances in his direction. He crawled toward her in a panther like crouch that was uniquely Midnight's. Was that playing, on one of the screens? She couldn't remember now. He clicked her dagger back into place, the feather looking knife looking more menacing in his hands. He looked at her form, and rose up to the same spot, unlike before, when it looked like he was crawling with the dust. Unconsciously, she was surprised at the lack of dirt that should have been on the black uniform.

"Prowl?"

He glanced curiously back up at her, and she was disturbed to see her own eyes again. His pale fingers touched the 'target' on her chest, the Autobot insignia shown proudly. He's eyes flittered back and forth between the insignia and here, as if asking a question.

"Autobot. That's what the symbol means, Autobot." He nodded in understanding, but kept looking at it mysteriously. She looked to find anything to say, anything at all.

"The leader of the Autobots is - Optimus Prime, what are you doing on the coms?" She pressed the earpiece back into her ear, confusion and frustration mixing together.

"Sorry, we're trying to find your coordinates. And don't worry so much, I'm just helping out Dad. I'm not I'm the field like last time." Came a younger voice that definitely didn't belong in a war.

"At least. I'll have Kicker send you our coordinates, he's better at it that I am." She looked to his tent. He always had the unnatural tendency to hear what he needed to.

"Just got it. Stay there until we can send a unit out there. Over and out."

"Over and out."

Throughout the entire conversation, she didn't see Prowl's eyes flash, and then dim to a normal consistency. Through the transmission, she had pulled herself up to the log and sat down. Prowl stayed as he was, looking just above her head.

"Hey."

He looked up at her again, those were her eyes, no doubt, but who's face? Who's face was his own modeled after?

"Can you say Autobot?" As if he were a child. And he might have been, who knew how old he really was. He certainly didn't look like it. He's golden eyebrows crunched together in concentration, wait. Golden eyebrows? With red bangs and white hair? This child was getting stranger. But she would admit that it had a certain…presence. Not something very good for special ops. So maybe that wasn't the purpose he was made for…

She looked back down, and gave a motherly smile, patting down his ghostly, pale crop cut hair. He leaned into her touch. Or perhaps it was her warmth. She frowned. He was still very cold, frosty almost. She grabbed the spare blanket beside her and wrapped him up in it.

"Get closer to the fire Honey. You still feel cold." He did as he was told and settled closer, staring at the fire with a trace of curiosity. He thumbed the fabric between his fingers. Everything was so new for him. But also so carefully reserved. She wondered if that came from his father. Whoever is father was.

She felt SilverShot shoot her a look, and she walked away, Silvershot following behind her.

"Stay here Prowl, I'll be right back." She walked to the other side of the camp. Silvershot pulled them both in Kicker's tent. He swiveled in his chair to look at the pair of them.

"You don't even know who this kid is, and you are practically becoming his mother!"

She shook her head indignantly. "This kid needs somebody-"

"I understand that. But you're getting attached. I get it." She stated. "You formed a bond when you saved him. Now let it go."

Kicker stepped between them, seeing the proverbial hackles raising on both of his female operatives.

"Now, SilverShot, let her explain." He gave her a meaningful glance.

"I'll admit that my motherly instincts are kicking in." She ignored the pointed look that Silvershot gave. "But he was frozen in a black of _ice._ He was bioengineered part inserted in the back of his skull." Kicker peered at him through the flap of the tent. "He doesn't look any older than Jazz, maybe younger. But I am telling you that child is trained. If we place him back in Decepticon hands…"

"Use the cons weapons against them…" Silvershot mumbled.

"No." She snapped at them both. She could tell that Kicker was thinking the same thing. "He is not a weapon. He is a child." She flicked the tent flap up and marched over to Prowl and sat down beside him. She would protect him, even if Magnus went against them.

Whiteout woke up to gunshots, SilverShot screaming at her to wake up.

"They came back for the kid!" She leapt up from her sleeping bag, and out of the tent, guns drawn and ready. She glanced back at the tent for but a second to see that the sleeping bag she had set out for Prowl was empty. She gun-butted a soldier and he fell to the ground. Prowl wasn't there. They couldn't be right, Prowl did not lead them here.

She rolled to safety, trying to find the leader of this troop. They hadn't held back on resources or people. They really wanted Prowl, but why. She pressed the trigger and shot a soldier. Dang it, where was Prowl? She would feel much better after she saw-

And then she saw it. Troops tapping ear pieces in confusion. Leader was out.

All of a sudden Decepticons went flying. Into the trees and hitting the floor, a black blur weaving itself through it all. She looked a soldier that landed beside her. She couldn't see anything wrong with him though.

She twisted around to find a hand on her shoulder, trying to drag her down. The decepticon's eyes widened in shock when a pale blur cut into his neck. He dropped like a rock.

Prowl stood tall, hands flecked with blood, knuckles white. He ducked a punch and landed a solid hit into a French looking man. He fell as well. The entire platoon was almost out. She heard traps going off in the woods. There would be no escapees. He started toward the forest, nearly disappearing in his black 'cat suit'.

"Prowl, stop!"

He skidded to a stop. She wanted him to look surprised or confused. Anything. To ask why. But he's face remained a stoic mask.

Her hands shook, eyes watering. She knew he was capable of this. She knew. But she didn't want to. He couldn't have…

"We do not kill unless necessary. You don't kill at all." Her voice shook.

Something flitted across he's features. He leaned down to one of the black suited men, hands going to his throat.

"NO!" She shouted, pulling him away. He's eyes widened in shock, trying to pull away. She grasped tighter. A hard look settled across, a small pain entering his eyes.

"Whiteout!"

Her head snapped back to the woods. SilverShot came tumbling out of the forest, apparently unscathed by the traps set by Prowl.

"He didn't kill anyone. They're all knocked out."

"But.." She looked down at the blood on his hands. They weren't…? SilverShot apparently followed her line of thought.

"The blood? When he punched them quiet, some of them coughed up blood. Nothing fatal, but quite a few of them are crippled. Nerves in the trigger finger are fried." She smirked at Prowl, who shrugged nonchalantly.

Whiteout eyes softened, tears falling.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry kiddo." She pulled him into hug. And she vaguely recalled that this was his first one, well the first one he could remember, because of the awkward, stiff way he held her back. She gave mercy and let him go. He looked at her as if to say, 'do you understand?'.

She simply patted his hair, and he leaned into her touch.

"When you're done having your sappy moment," SilverShot drawled out, "Autobot Aerial found us after all the commotion. They're ready to take us home."

Whiteout placed a hand on his shoulder, broad and slightly boney.

"C'mon Prowl. Let's go home."

They walked into the woods, Kicker already explaining things to SandStorm, who would fly them away from here and back to the base.


	3. Chapter 3

They were dropped off at the heli-pad, the grass flying from the swiftly whipping wind. Kicker and SilverShot offered to explain everything to the 'Higher-Ups', while Whiteout got him cleaned up, checked out, and in something decent. She looked at his blood splattered uniform, which he didn't seem to be bothered by, which kid of bothered her, and agreed. The first thing was a shower. Ratchet wouldn't see him in a dirty, rumbled state like this.

She smiled at the large, orange colored building which she called home. As she walked through the sparse halls, everybody being on shift right now, thank God, she wondered why they were orange at all. Everybody asked but no one knew the real answer. She looked at Prowl and started a bit. The blood still speckled over his hands and chest, nearly invisible in the black uniform. She led him to the showers to a private section in the washing racks.

The silver shined with slickness, and in the back was tubs that you could fill up and just soak in. A favorite past time of Blackout. She snickered at that particular memory of catching him in the bath with data reports. She missed the strange look Prowl gave her. They also had showers with thicker doors, which the special ops and officers especially appreciated. She turned towards him, a thought suddenly occurred to her, thinking about Blackout.

"Hey Prowl. Do you prefer to shower or take a bath?"

He shrugged his shoulders uncertainly. And that got her thinking. He was in a block of ice.

"Have you ever been given a bath before?"

He shook his head. Never. She thought back to all of those monitors.

"Did they teach you? Through the…um…" She gestured the monitors and wires. He shook his head again. It was then she realized it. They needed him to depend on them for something. Anything. They couldn't have him switch sides. She stayed silent at that thought, her expression unreadable.

"Well you are now." She kneeled down and turned the faucets, filling the tub high with heated water.

"Now I am going to turn around. And I want you to strip off the uniform and slip into the tub. When your done, let me know." And she turned her back to him. She waited a moment, and suddenly thought about something. He hadn't talked at all, how was he going to let her know?

She saw the long handle of a back scrubber skid across the floor and turned around.

My gosh, was he truly that pale? And where had he gotten that muscle when he was stuck in a block of ice? It shown on his chest as solid muscle, the cords looking swelled. Which might be possible. Maybe the cold had seeped in his person. She crouched down to the edge. She felt a pang in her chest reminding her of Skylar. She sorely missed him.

"Okay, I want you to put your head into the water and get your hair wet, okay?"

He slowly sunk into the water, and she smiled. He wanted to be tense and alert, but the water was making him relax. She pat his shoulder, and he rose back up, slick and shiny.

She started massaging his head and cleaning the white and red color hair, being wary of the port and carefully scrubbing around it. She had to remind him to stand up a bit because he slipped too far into the water. Then she pumped the conditioner and raked it through. She taught him how to move the bar of soap over his body to make it clean, and he copied her actions. By now the water was bubbly and foamy and Prowl looked like he was thoroughly enjoying it.

"Do you want to stay in there for a while? Or are you ready to get out?" He showed her the wrinkling fingers. Well that was a good enough answer for her. She walked over to the cupboards full of fluffy white towels and pulled one out. She flustered and rolled her eyes good naturedly at him. He sat crouched on the floor, his skin slick and pale and looking like a human icicle. He slicked his hair back, the water flowing down his back in rivets. His bangs looking a bit like antennae or maybe horns.

Wait.

The slicked back hair, the chin, the chiseled face.

She dropped the towels. She knew who the father was. She finally remembered that face. And she had to see him now. He crept towards her, and placed the towel on top of his head. She got over her shock for now. She would get to him later. Right now, she had to get Prowl looking decent. She dried him off and ruffled his hair. There was a hint of smile playing on his lips, and she might have imagined a chuckle but she didn't know. She would have to take him to Ratchet, but he was taking him to the Higher-ups first. They would want to see him, interview him. And she wanted to be there. Just in case.

And she knew exactly what to put him in.

"Hey Midnight? Could you bring a suit from Jace's closet? Oh, and some underwear and socks too. Why? Well, I got someone here that will need it." She glanced at him, wrapped in a fluffy, white towel. She smiled at the familiar scene, now that she kind of looked, he did look a bit like Skylar.

Midnight came back with the requested items, the door swishing open. His steps echoed eerily in the smaller area of the wash racks.

"Now, Why in the world would you need-" He stopped, staring at Prowl as if he had two heads. Whiteout calmly took the clothes started sorting through, trying to figure out how to explain to him how to dress himself. Midnight was still staring however.

"Did you reproduce with-?"

"No." She cut him off sharply. "It is a long story that you will probably hear about through the grapevine later. Now, if you will excuse me, I have to find some way to explain to the Officials that this boy is perfectly ok to live and serve with us." She turned towards Prowl and indicated for him to stand. Midnight walked out, no doubt to tell his wife about the news, and his son about his now missing suit.

Hey, People. Just want to say that updates won't always be this frequent, but i will try to stay somewhat consistent. Thanks so much for all the visits. I quess i will see yall next time.


	4. Chapter 4

Prowl got a look of concern on his face and raced after him, luckily the towel was tucked in just enough to cover his…lower extremities. He dragged Midnight back in, his pale hand practically glowing in Midnight's chocolate covered skin. Midnight looked at her ludicrously, and all she could offer was a shrug of her shoulders. She had no idea.

He crouched by the lukewarm water and dipped Midnight's hand in, gently covering it with the liquid. When that didn't work, he took the bar of soap he had used and started scrubbing more vigorously with each passing second. Midnight just looked at her confused. They both seemed to be asking the same question.

"Prowl, honey, what are you doing?"

He pointed at the darkness of the skin, and pointed to the bath, where he had just been cleaned of all of his grim, dirt and blood. Wait, cleaned.

"Do you think he's dirty?" She was appalled. She looked at Midnight, trying to figure out just what he was thinking. Of course, she couldn't tell, he's face blank. And that's when she realized it. Her, Silvershot, Kicker, they all were a varying degree of Caucasian. They didn't have very deep tans.

"Um, Midnight, how do I explain this. You're the first black person he has ever seen."

He looked at her like she had grown a second head, pulling his hand away from Prowl's grip, the skin turning red under his none to gentle ministrations. Prowl glared trying to gain it back.

"Are you serious?" He swatted his hand out of Prowl's way, which didn't make him happy. He snatched it out, and smoothed his thumbs over the area of skin he had rubbed raw. He looked so sad. Midnight looked at him carefully, sandwiching his hand between his own hands.

"Do you think I'm dirty?" Prowl shook his head, but still looked so apprehensive.

"Do you think that I'm burned or something? That my skin got burnt in an accident?" Prowl nodded sadly, looking at him quizzically. As if to ask if it was true. He looked so sincere, Midnight had to laugh.

Prowl snatched his hand out of his sandwich, looking extremely offended. He started to get up, she could practically see him walking proudly to her, but Midnight pulled him back down with a chuckle.

"There ain't no need to get like 'dat. I was born this way."

That didn't serve to assure him. If anything, he looked panicked now. Like he was born burnt or something. He chuckled at that again.

"No, Prowl, this is my natural skin tone. It is as natural as the one you were born with." He said while poking Prowl's check. While Prowl did not look amused, Whitewing prided herself on keeping a snort in as she giggled inwardly. Prowl looked back at her, showing his displeasure with her laughing. Which didn't help matters one bit. Midnight patted his head, and stood up, the issue now cleared.

"He the one that's causing such a ruckus?" He asked with a good natured smile.

She rolled her eyes, amusement clear. "Rumors are already flying?"

"Yep, that he was found in…unusual circumstances. Want to clear any of that up?" A coy smile flashed at her.

"You will find out all that you need to know through the Officers because they will always tell the troops." Okay, so maybe some of that was sarcastic. But she knew how these rumor things worked. Everyone would know about Prowl sooner or later. And Midnight knew that too.

"I'm guessing the suit is for them?"

"Yea." He patted her shoulder, and in the corner they both saw Prowl move toward them, his protective side showing as Midnight came close to her. He backed away. He had heard about the job that he had done on that Decepticons team. He didn't want this kid to get angry. He walked out the door, leaving Whitewing to dress him and Prowl to ponder over this new information.

He had refused to slick the hair back again, leaving the bangs to frame his face. The bright red tie flashed in the artificial lights, contrasting sharply with the white button up shirt that fit just right. Thank God that he was close to the same size as Jace. Any bigger, or even smaller she realized, and it wouldn't have fit. The black vest hugged him snuggly, making his frame seen even smaller than she thought. He hadn't eaten, she thought worriedly. Surely he wasn't afraid to ask her for food?

His heels clicked sharply, echoing down the halls in an eerily sort of way. She rarely went down so far in this part of the base. She dropped off her reports and left. She wasn't considered important enough to be taken to the staff meetings. They made a special case today. Kicker lead her through the maze until they stopped at the door.

It didn't look like anything special. It was just a simple door, unmarked, but according to Kicker, this was the place. She looked at Prowl and gave a small, motherly smile. It was possible, his back was even straighter than usual, his shoulders broad. His head held high, and hands folded neatly behind his back in the perfect military stance. He looked so much like his father. Apparently Kicker had caught in to the same conclusion.

"Listen, we have already told them everything, but they are still suspicious. They want to see him, want to keep him under eye and chain. Don't let them. Be careful of what you say, and always do things _logically._" He stressed. That's why they wanted to see them so soon. So they couldn't come up with a story. Wanted to catch her off guard. Well they had. Kicker waited, letting her collect herself.

She glanced at Prowl and he looked at her steadily. He was ready. But he understood that they both had to come in. He would be patient, for her.

She opened the door.

The local officers didn't make her near as nervous as the ones that had been pulled out of the different countries to make this meeting. Prowl was a surprise they weren't anticipating. They didn't like surprises, War or not. Their eyes barely flickered over her. She wasn't important. They settled on the boy. Prowl didn't flinch as his gaze swept the room and settled on the upper right corner and stayed. Prime's right hand man and head of the tactical department, Blackout.

No words were said, at least not yet. Prowl cautiously stepped to Blackout, he's steps commanding presence, imposing authority without even meaning to. Blackout turned to face him, face to face. And that was saying something.

When you looked at them, it was plain as day they were related. They were father and son, blood work done or not, there would be no denying that. Separate, however, there was just enough of her to where they could be mistaken. Just enough of her features to hide him in plain sight. But there was the stupid chin, and the strong jawline, and his long straight nose.

Prowl reached up to stroke the features that so closely resembled his own.

"So, I assume that you are Prowl?"

His hand dropped to his side, the moment gone. Blackout was nearly sad at that. He simply nodded his head at the head of the table, Magnus. Whitewing walked behind him, placing a hand on Prowl's shoulder. There was no reaction, but she felt it was appreciated, none the less.

"Do you have a name besides Prowl?" Magnus asked gently. Silvershot hadn't been kidding. He really did look younger that Jace. How had this boy taken a whole platoon out by himself? He simply shook his head again. Was he mute?

"He really does need a name…" Whitewing leaned against the table, hands braced on either side of her. Vaguely, she saw Blackout go into his 'thinking pose' (aka, he's hands folding underneath him with a certain look in his eye). They didn't notice Prowl stepping back, allowing them to have full eye contact with each other. Patience to let them sort it out. There was a moment. She was surprised that all of the officers had been this quiet, and not bombarding them with questions.

"I have always liked the name Adam." Blackout rumbled. She looked at him, the pros and cons of such a name.

"Adam." She weighed the name on her tongue. Yes, it had a nice sound to it, an influence about it that she liked.

"Yes." Blackout raised himself to his full height, a certain proud-ness showing on his face. "Adam 'Prowl' McFallen-Powell."

Prowl's eyes flashed and a sigh escaped his lips. A polite smile reached his lips, his eyes softening to a duller shade that wasn't like lightening, but more like sky. She liked that look, almost relaxed.

"Finally. I believed that you would remain my disposition to be silent for the rest of my life." A voice rolled smoothly into the air, slightly horse from misuse.

I would just like to point out, that I am not trying to offend anyone, and if I have, I apologize profously. I was simply trying to write from the perspective from someone who didnt know any better. This is really fun for me to write, because I'm not trying to do it all structured and such as I usually do. Hope yall enjoy it, and again, i deeply apologize if i have offended anybody, it wasnt in my intentions.


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